Anytime She Wanted
by 74days
Summary: Viva is a succubus, sure, but that didn't make her a bad person - now she just had to convince a pissed of Hunter who didn't want to have sex with her that she wasn't evil. Oh, and try not to starve to death. Sam/OC Dean/Cas


The first thing Viva saw when she opened her eyes was a good looking guy, with the most interesting green and hazel eyes she'd ever seen. Although she wasn't happy about being summoned like a damn demon, she could work with this. She could work with **_him_**. He smiled at her, and yes... yes, she could work with this.

"Hi," She purred, body moving sensually as she stood up from the floor she'd fallen to when she'd been called. "I'm Chrystal, and I can make you..." She cast a little forward vision and saw... nothing. Wait... what? The man seemed to be taken aback by her expression and frowned as she Looked deeper, something she rarely needed to do. "What the hell, dude?" She burst out as she realised what the issue was. "You don't summon a succubus if you can't get it up!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" The man snapped, looking around the room as though he expected someone to jump out from behind one of the many bookshelves and shout 'Gotcha!'

"Your little problem." Viva said, gesturing in the direction of his crotch. "I can't help you with that, you'll need like, a demon – or Viagra at the very least. Please tell me you tried Viagra before you resorted to summoning things?"

"I don't have a fucking problem!" He snapped. "I brought you here to kill you."

Viva stared at him, and then looked around a little more, her supernatural eyes seeing more that those of the man before her. She saw through some walls, saw the bedrooms – saw the swords, the stakes, the sigils painted everywhere... and felt her own heart speed up with an emotion she hadn't felt in a long time. Fear.

"Paying attention now, huh?" The man taunted her, and Viva looked at her feet, saw the shapes drawn on the floor, trapping her in place.

"Please don't kill me." She said, looking up at him, letting her power build up into her eyes, beseeching him. It was a commonplace power, to promote feeling through a gaze. Normally she pushed need, want, lust, but she knew that wasn't going to work, so she tried with pity, weakness. She could tell that it hadn't worked when he laughed. It wasn't an unpleasant laugh, it was actually warm – or at least, it would be, if the man laughing wasn't planning on killing her. "My name is Viva Harris, I swear. I never killed anyone."

"You expect me to believe that?" He smirked. "I've met your kind before."

"I swear. I never killed anyone! You can call my clients!" She rushed, and she could see that at least got a reaction.

"Clients?"

"I'm an escort." Viva said, nodding, abandoning her powers for the only thing she could think of that would save her. The truth. "I work in New York mostly, I have a list – people you could call."

"What's a succubus doing working as an escort?" He said, frowning at her. "You suck your clients dry and what? Steal what they have?"

Viva forgot for a moment that he was probably more that capable of killing her where she stood. "Fuck you. You sound just like my sisters." Viva glared. "They're old school like you, hunter. Thinking like monsters rather than using their damn brains. Not understanding. Drought or a burst! So fat on sex they can't move or starving – nothing in between."

"And you think you're better than them?" He sneered, waving a hand over her, which caused her to bristle. She had been wearing her maroon pinstripe pinafore dress, with the green YSL heels and the bag that she'd paid a fucking fortune for – but as with all these stupid spells – she'd arrived in whatever the spell caster wanted, and this meant the 'traditional' stripper getup, white thigh-high boots and a red plastic micro-dress. Fuck this dude and his outdated idea of what a succubus dressed like. If her clothes weren't waiting for her when she got back to her apartment she would skin him alive. The shoes had been a gift from Charles.

"I **_am_** better than them." She said, glaring at him. "I understand how power works. I understand how to make my life better. I'm a new breed of beast."

"Yeah, you look it." The hunter said, walking around the markings on the ground and towards the table behind her, which was loaded with weapons, a few of which could actually kill her. It was a sad fact of life that very things could survive a beheading though, which was what she thought of first when he picked up the machete.

"People will look for me." She said and as soon as the words were out of her lips she knew how pathetic she sounded.

"Who?" He said, not sounding worried at all. Of course. Because no one would know where she would have been summoned to.

"My clients. I have an appointment tomorrow. And my sisters." She added. "I have a **_lot_** of sisters." Who hated her and probably wouldn't shed a tear if she showed up headless and drained of her blood. Not that she was going to tell **_him_** that.

"I'm not worried." He smiled. Of course he wasn't worried. He was in a house full of weapons, covered with sigils she hadn't even **_seen_** before.

"Why me?" She said, hating that her voice was starting to lose some of its anger. "I haven't hurt anyone."

"You feed off of men who don't know any better, kill innocent people. It's my job to make sure that you don't get away with that."

Viva stared at him, open mouthed, too stunned to even talk.

"Nothing to say to that, huh?" He laughed. "No sob story? No begging?"

"You think I'm a monster," Viva managed to spit out. "Well, there's **_one_** in this room, I guess. Get it over with. Kill me. When I'm dead and you find out that I'm telling you the truth, will you even feel remorse? Or do you just go on with your life? With that little problem in your pants, no fucking wonder you do this. Do you get off on it? Killing people? Hurting things? The family business?"

"What the fuck did you say?"

"Do you get off on it?" She retorted. "Must suck for a guy like **_you_**, can't even get it up anymore for vanilla." She felt the wetness of tears on her face as her voice got louder and louder. "Need a splash of red and hurt to make it work? I've met guys like you. It's never enough." She used the back of her hand to swipe away the salty stripes of tears on her face. "You think I'm the bad guy? I'm not the one who needs to kill women in the basement to get **_hard_**!"

"Shut your whore mouth!"

"At least I've got the decency to ask for **_money_**!" She screamed, anger and panic making her reckless. "You think I can't see where you've whored it about? I'm a succubus! I can see all the faceless no-one's in your life. I see the whores and the strippers and the nameless sluts in bars. Fuck you. Fuck you and your **_hypocrisy_**. I'm worth 12 of you. Twice that! You're nothing but a washed up drunk with a limp dick and-"

He hit her so hard she stumbled back in the ridiculous boots he'd imagined her into, sprawled out on the floor. Strange, that, because she'd expected him to swing the machete and not his fist.

Pain bloomed across her cheek where his fist had connected a few moments later, shock stopping the sharp pain from registering at first, and then... he walked away.

* * *

Viva had taken off the horrible white boots off and had thrown them at the door he'd slammed as he left her sitting in the middle of the painted circle on the floor.

That had been an hour ago. The longer she sat there, the more uncomfortable she got. She'd used her stored power to stop her face from hurting, but she'd stopped short of healing it completely. Best to leave it there. Men like him didn't like to see signs of their violence on women. She knew that almost as soon as he left her sprawled on the floor. The look of self disgust on his face told a story. He probably hadn't hit a woman in an argument before. Probably never raised his voice to those human women she'd seen in his past.

She could see him, of course, though her second vision was fading because of the healing she'd done to herself. His fuzzy shape was sitting on the edge of a bed with one lone pillow – the saddest thing she could remember seeing in her life – and he looked like he was praying.

* * *

Two hours after that, he came back out of the room, looking hard and impossibly distant. He threw something at her, and her first instinct was to dodge. The clothes that he'd tossed in her direction fell around her, a pair of well worn jeans – washed so often that they were soft to touch, a grey undershirt and a checked flannel shirt.

"Put them on." He said, not looking at her. Probably still feeling guilty about hitting her. He'd probably feel guiltier about hitting her than he would about killing her, she realised. She could work with that. The clothes were his, she could tell by the smell, the feel of the fabric. She hated wearing other people's clothes. It reminded her of the life she'd had before she became... her own person.

She pulled the jeans on first, they hung too low on her hips, but it meant that she would have something covering her ass when she unzipped the dress. Not that he was looking at her. The dress was tacky and horrible and she almost let out a moan of relief when she managed to get out of it. It had stuck to her and left sweaty red marks on her pale skin, which she hurriedly covered with the clothes he'd given her. She was wondering if she should button the shirt or just leave it when he walked towards her with something in his hands.

"Eat this." He said, thrusting a plate in her general direction. There was a burger on the plate, and a can of soda balancing on the white ceramic.

"Going to feed me before you kill me?" She asked, noting that he didn't look at her even when she took the plate from his outstretched hand.

* * *

He was on the laptop, typing away with two fingers and looking like his brain was going to overheat. She'd finished the burger and drunk most of the soda. The food wasn't too bad actually. She was expecting something overly processed, but it actually tasted like he'd made it himself, which was something she hadn't expected, and the soda was cold.

* * *

He was looking at the screen like he wanted to punch it, and Viva was worried. Worried, because she'd done another 'Look' at him, and what she saw was conflicted. He didn't want to kill her, but he couldn't let her go. He was angry at the things she'd yelled at him, but he was angrier at himself for hitting her. All in all, it seemed like he was actually an okay guy. The kind of guy that she'd maybe even sleep with, if he could afford it. Which, going on the army surplus store clothes, he probably couldn't. Shame. She needed to feed.

"I don't know where I am." She said, looking around. "If you let me go, I won't come back. I promise."

"Are you Viva Harris?" He asked, turning the screen around so that she could see what he'd been looking at. Her online profile, the one she'd worked for months ensuring that it was perfect. There were no flaws, no missing references.

"Yes."

"It says here you are a property management consultant."

"I am." She shrugged. "I own several properties." Most of them had been gifts. Her clients could afford it and they were always so **_appreciative_**. There was only so much a human woman could do. She was made for sex. She could rock their world without even trying.

"You went to Dartmouth?" He asked, reading on.

"Yes. I studied psychology." She shrugged. "It helps."

"With?"

"Look, you think you know what I am, but you're so wrong. You think that we're all the same right? Sleep with a guy, suck up all his life energy and leave a dried, dead body behind. And, yeah, okay... that tends to be the case 90% of the time, but there are the 10% of us out there who know that there is a better way of living." Viva said, keeping her voice calm, projecting her best persona forward, treating him like another overworked client. Another stressed businessman who needed someone to talk to. "We need sex to live, we feed off the power and lust... but you don't need to drink the well dry. If you plan in right, you can take a little bit of water every day and you'll never be thirsty again."

"And why doesn't everyone just do that then, if it's so easy?"

"It's not easy." She shrugged. "But I'd rather not kill people and still be able to feed." She deliberately kept her voice soft as she used the words kill and feed, knowing that those would trigger him off again. "You need a lot of control. You need to understand that we feed off of lust. My clients pay me vast amounts of money for the things I can do to them, **_for_** them. They pay me for something my sisters do for free." She smiled warmly. "There is more than one type of power. They come to me because I am the best. I am the best because I have a large client list and a little bit of food every day means I will never, ever starve."

"You're doing something to my head." He said, suddenly, getting to his feet, the chair scraping back harshly, a shrill scream in the quiet room. "I can feel you fucking with my head!"

"No!" Viva said, trying to keep her control, keep her voice soothing. "I'm just talking. This is what I do, I talk - I talk to men more than I sleep with them. You need someone to talk to – I can see that. You're overworked, you're stressed, and I can see that. Please, I can help you if you'll just **_let_** me."

"All that shit you said earlier was bullshit." He spat out, and she could see how much he needed to say the words.

"I know. I see that. You don't hurt people, you try to help."

"I do," he said, glaring at her. "I save people from monsters."

"I used some of my power to Look inside you," She said, "It isn't like mindreading!" She said hurriedly when he looked furious again. "Nothing like that, it's like... seeing inside a person's soul, you know? Looking deeper, you're hardworking and good when it matters." Viva soothed. "I saw that like graffiti on the walls of your body."

* * *

He actually called it 'the batcave' which Viva found beyond adorable. The longer he talked, the more she liked him, and the more she liked him, the more she Saw.

Certain things were inherent to succubae, like their Sight. They could see things inside of people, weaknesses that they could use to blind their pray to lust. Viva's sight was stronger than most because she studied behaviour as well, meaning she had a whole arsenal of weapons that had nothing to do with her natural abilities.

Being closer to a person caused her to see more about them than they knew. She knew a lot about him already. He had gone through something bad, perhaps he was just back from a war – he had walls everywhere inside him, holding things away so he wouldn't get hurt – and more disturbingly, cages in his soul locking things **_inside_**. Dark, horrible things that Viva didn't want to look at too closely because they weren't a part of who he was now.

He had one of the worst cases of PTSD that she'd ever seen; she didn't doubt that he had trust issues, nightmares, some form of addiction and, yes, erectile dysfunction. Like most men though, he powered past it, right into sleazy comments and flirty glances, she'd been propositioned four times in the past hour, although she knew that if she'd actually acted on those looks he'd dump her back into the trapping circle he'd let her out of.

He showed her the kitchen (she was right, he made those burgers himself) his room - which was something she needed to think about later, when she had some time – the library, the telescope... even the space that he'd called the TV room, which was actually sans a TV.

"We're getting a flat screen up there." He said, pointing to the wall, and she could just tell from his expression that he was proud.

"It's really cool." She nodded, walking behind him as she planned her escape. She needed to get out, but once she was out, she needed to get as far away from this place as possible. She needed money, clothes, tickets back to New York... she needed her **_phone_**. "You could get a whole gym in here too, you know." She pointed out. "Like, a cross trainer in the corner, a treadmill, you could get a standard pole too – lots of leg room."

"A pole?" He said, turning away from his imagined flat screen TV to look at her.

"Yes, a pole." She laughed. "I take classes. Great for your arms. I take an hour after spin."

"Like a **_stripper_** pole?"

"Men use them too." Viva shrugged. "There are a few guys in my class. They tend to get fewer rotations but the stunts they can pull off are pretty impressive."

"Guys? On a stripper pole?"

* * *

She ended up showing him videos on YouTube, and found out his name was Dean. He had two brothers, as far as she could tell, called Cas (who was missing) and Sam – who was looking for ingredients. Dean had to stay at the bat cave and get the stuff they needed for the spell to help them find Cas. Namely, he'd been given the job of getting succubus blood.

"You don't need to kill me for my blood." Viva said, when he'd been watching the pole dancing guys with an odd expression that was half way between 'what the hell' and 'I could do that' which was pretty much what most guys thought when they saw it.

"The spell needs a lot."

"You've got a fridge, right?" She shrugged. "You could just take a few bags every day and store it in there till you need it. I've never donated blood because... well... you don't want people walking about with monster blood in them, but I always felt bad about it."

"You mean... like a blood bank?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "And when you had enough you could let me go, right?"

* * *

"Dean, please, I promise, I'll come back!" She cried, tears falling from her eyes. Tears didn't work, she'd found that out a few days before, but she was hurting and exhausted and she really needed to feed. "I promise!"

Dean shook his head, and Viva never hated anyone more. "I can't take the risk, Viva, I need this blood, okay, just a few days more and we'll have enough and you can go. Go for good, okay?"

"I'm going to be dead in a few days!" She sobbed, head buried deep into the arm of the couch as another spasm washed over her body. She hadn't felt like this in so long, she'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

* * *

Dean was gone, to get something, Viva couldn't remember. She could remember a few things, like pain, and hunger, and a need that burned like fire through her veins.

She lay on the couch, shaking and shivering as yet another wave of hunger washed though her. She heard the large door open and slam shut, heavy steps of a male. Dean had gone to get food. Viva needed to feed. He pulled herself upright and stared at the male with eyes focusing what little power she had left. This, yes, this was a male she could use.

Pain forgotten in the hunt, she pulled herself from a reclining position, aware that there was still a slight tremor in her hands as she walked towards the male – who turned to face her with an expression of surprise. It took three steps before she was in his arms, three breaths before she tasted his lips, three seconds before he responded.

He was strong, powerful, the **_perfect_** male – dominating and solid as she kissed him deeply, touching the first taste of his caged lust. It took the edge off her own hunger long enough for her to realise that Dean must have paid a great deal for a male of this standard to come here. This knowledge made her smile, which the tall man seemed to like, he kissed her back, hands roaming over her body – easily slipping under the clothes that were too big for her.

He lifted her with one hand, a dizzying display of dominance that had her gasping into his mouth, making him laugh warmly as he carried her to the room she'd been using.

* * *

Viva woke up curled up in the middle of the bed that had obviously been made of sturdier stuff than it appeared. She felt amazing; better than she had in **_decades_**. The guy Dean had paid was a professional through and through, and she took full advantage of that. She felt like she'd been to an all you can eat buffet, and he'd been able to satisfy her appetite like no one ever had. She drained him so much he should probably be in a coma, but nope – she could hear him in the shower.

It took her a snap of her fingers to leave the room and get back to her own apartment.

That was the thing that annoyed her most. If she had fed before Dean had summoned her, the moment she was out of the trap he'd drawn she could have snapped herself home. But no, she'd left it too late and hadn't the power. Not now though. Now she was burning power like she hadn't done since she'd... she grabbed the travel case she kept under the bed and threw it open, pushing the large closest open and avoiding the thoughts that were threatening to come forward. She hadn't lied to Dean, not really. She hadn't killed anyone. Not her. Not the person she was now. She couldn't be held accountable for those years when she was nothing but a monster who knew nothing but the hunt and the hunger.

Now she had clothes and style and **_money_**. She had a life. Which was why she was questioning her motives now, emptying the designer clothes into the case. She could leave the formal and the couture; she didn't think Dean went to many 'events' where a twenty thousand dollar dress was appropriate.

She was going to go back. Which was so fucking stupid she refused to even think about it. She picked up her phone, and dialled a number, smile on her face.

"Charles, darling!"

* * *

"What the fuck do you mean, she's gone?" Dean was yelling, as Viva clicked herself back. His voice was travelling through the bat cave, echoing and bouncing off the walls. Her cases were at her feet as she stood, trying to get her bearings. She'd been gone a few hours at least, and was wearing her favourite deep brown body con dress, with the Relika Grey Louboutins that she'd bought on a whim and adored.

When she stepped out of the room, seeing Dean argue with the man she'd left in the shower, she felt a pang of guilt. Her heels clicked she stepped neatly across the floor and stood beside Dean, who was staring at her mutely.

"I'm so sorry." She smiled. "I needed to step out for a moment." Her YSL purse didn't really match the shoes, but it went so well with the dress that she'd picked it up over the Gucci that was still in her apartment, and she snapped it open as she pulled out the matching wallet. "Will four hundred cover it, or did you discuss a different rate?"

"What?"

"**_What_**?"

They spoke almost in unison, and Viva fought the urge to smile. "If you're charging less than that, you're being robbed." She pointed out. "Trust me, as one professional to another."

"He's not a hooker." Dean bit out, looking like he was going to punch someone. "Where the hell were you?"

"I told you, I had to step out." She wasn't going to explain the whole thing with some random man watching them with wide eyes.

"You can just step out?"

"Can we discuss this once we've let," She paused, "I'm so sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Sam." The tall man said, voice oddly tight.

"Once we've let Sam get back on his way." She smiled warmly. "However, if you have a business card I will defiantly be using your services in the future... Sorry... did you say Sam?"

"Yes."

"As in... Sam, _my brother Sam_?" She looked at Dean, sending a silent prayer that she was so very, very wrong.

"Yes, as in my **_brother_**."

"Oh." Viva looked down at the money she was holding out. "Oh, I guess then, that this is a super awkward moment when I slept with your brother thinking you'd sent me a professional to feed on?"

* * *

Viva left them to yell at each other while she put her clothes away in the small version of a real closet. Humans could be so amusing when it came to sex.

The door opened and Dean stepped through, looking pissed and confused. "What are you doing?"

"Putting my clothes away." Viva shrugged. "You didn't seriously expect me to wear your hand-me-downs did you?"

"You can leave." He sounded almost disappointed.

"Yes. I could have left the moment that you let me out of the binding spell, but I didn't have the... juice... to do it." Viva shrugged. "I just went back to my apartment, picked up a few things."

"Why did you come back?"

"I told you, I would leave when you had enough blood. Now that I've fed, it'll be easier." She smiled. She didn't mention the fact that she liked it here, liked Dean, liked the fact that he liked her for **_her_** and not for the things that she could do to him, because she wasn't doing anything for him. They weren't having sex. He was male and they weren't having sex. Viva couldn't remember having a relationship that had nothing to do with sex. It was nice. New. Deeper. "I keep my promises."

"This is Sam's room." He said, looking around.

"Handy." Viva smiled. "Bed and breakfast."

"You aren't sleeping with my brother!" Dean snapped. Viva laughed at his scandalised tone.

"I already have, and he's still walking around so you know I'm not going to kill him." She said, reaching forward into her case and pulling out another pair of shoes. "Aren't these adorable? I can hardly walk in them, they hurt like hell, but just look at them!"

"You can't sleep with Sam."

"I already have. Don't be so... human, Dean." She said, putting the shoes on the floor of the closet. "I need to feed, he's giant all you can eat buffet, and the only other steak in the general vicinity is off the menu." She gave him a look that said a great many things that they didn't talk about. Like Dean's little performance issue.

"He's my baby brother."

"Then **_you_** aren't sleeping with him." She pointed out. "Dean, this is a good thing."

* * *

It was a good thing, Viva just wasn't sure how she was going to convince these idiot boys that it was. Good Lord, they both acted like she'd broken all of the rules in one go. Sam wouldn't even look at her, which wasn't going to work for what she had planned.

"Seriously? Is it because I thought you were a working boy?" She asked, when Dean left them to go and make something to eat. Sam jumped out of his chair and backed up like she was some kind of live wire. "Are you for real?" She asked, leaning her hip against the table. She knew she looked good, all curves and long legs, her dark red hair in lazy curls (so easy to maintain now she had a little extra power at her fingertips) and her make-up perfectly applied. She could walk into any high end gallery in New York and not one person would think she was anything but an extremely expensive piece of art. Men fell over themselves to talk to her. She looked **_perfect_**.

"I didn't know you were... you know... when we..." He made an unmistakeable gesture with his giant hands that made her laugh.

"We had sex." She clarified.

"Yeah."

"Are you old enough to have sex?"

"Of course!"

"Then you're old enough to say the word." She retorted. "You and your brother are acting like children."

"Dean likes you." Sam said, looking at her with an oddly hurt expression, like she'd just kicked his puppy in the face with her expensive shoes.

"And I like Dean." She shrugged, curls falling over her shoulder perfectly with the movement. She knew he noticed. She could see the coil of desire forming inside him. Already, after all she took from him. Viva found the huntress inside of her smile a vicious smile. Here she had prey who could keep her satisfied for a **_long_** time.

"I won't do that to my brother." He said, and his words effectively beat the desire he felt for her down.

"Do what to him?" She asked, before instantly understanding. Her laugh was loud enough to bring Dean out of the kitchen, eyes skimming over her body from habit rather than any desire.

"What's going on?"

"Your brother thinks we're having sex." She managed. "He thinks you're mad because he slept with your girl."

Dean looked at her with wide eyes, and then looked at his brother like he was the world's biggest idiot. "You are an idiot." He snapped. "I'm pissed at her cause she used you to eat, and I'm pissed at you because you didn't know she was a **_succubus_**!"

"How was I supposed to know?" Sam said, wringing his hands, looking like a giant toddler. "She was just... there... and she was... you know." He waved a hand in her general direction, outlining her curves. Viva's inner huntress purred. She enjoyed being complimented, and that was a compliment.

"Yeah, and you didn't think... Gee, why is this smoking hit chick throwing herself at me?" When Dean called her hot it was a statement of fact. There was no... Emotion to it. He really **_wasn't_** sexually attracted to her. Luckily his brother was, or she'd be feeling seriously put out.

"Well, now we've established that I'm not having sex with your brother, let's discuss **_us_** having sex a bit more." Viva said, giving Sam a pointed look.

* * *

Viva wasn't having sex with Sam, which sucked, and not in the many, many, fun ways that she knew. This sucked in the lousy way that did not actually represent sucking at all. So she was sitting on the edge of the table, in a bright red pinafore dress with a wide black belt cinching her waist and her classic black Choos, looking like she'd just stepped off the cover of vogue and they were arguing **_again_**.

This time it was about the best way to draw the summoning circle. The one that was apparently going to bring the missing brother Cas, like Dean had summoned her. She'd never heard of a human being called through anything like this before, but they had a whole host of ingredients she'd never even known existed before, so she was going to assume they knew what they were doing. Her blood was (rather unceremoniously) being held in a large cooking pot, and they had been adding things to it while chanting for what felt like hours. And now they were arguing. **_Again_**.

Viva just really wanted to have sex. She had a taste and she wanted more. She didn't care about this missing brother, unless he was willing to have sex with her, and if he was anything like Sam she doubted that he would.

She woke every morning and made sure she looked her best. She wore subtly sexy dresses and high heels; she did her hair and make-up perfectly. She didn't understand what she was doing wrong.

"Dean, if we just draw it the way I'm suggesting, it won't make a difference if I'm wrong, but if we do it the other way and I was right, we have to start all over again."

Dean glared at him and then over at her. "Don't even look at me." She said, holding up her hands. "I've given enough for this cause. I'm only sticking around to see if it works." Viva shrugged. That and try to get another athletic session in with the younger Winchester.

"Fine, let's just... let's just do this."

* * *

It didn't take long, and the spell was quite simple. They used all the blood, and even had to take a little more – Dean took the needle to her skin because Sam refused to touch her at all. She rolled her eyes in his direction, and Dean smirked.

When it was over though, and the spell had been chanted, and the lines of blood started to glow bright neon blue, Viva felt the power crack and snap in the air. She could feel it in her skin like a mild shock, tingling and brushing over her like a lovers embrace – and then everything went dark.

The generator kicked in a few seconds later, and when the dim lights kicked in, Viva saw him standing there. Her scream echoed around the room as she scrambled off the table she had been sitting on, grabbing at the arms of the brothers who were standing looking at the... thing... in the middle of the circle.

"Run!" She screamed, but they wouldn't move, no matter how hard she pulled.

"Cas?" Dean asked, his voice broken and uneven, and at the sound of his words, the... thing... in the middle of the blood drawn markings collapsed, wings crushed limply under his form.

* * *

"Angels are real?" Viva asked, standing behind Sam, using his body to shield her from the body that Dean had carried to the couch as though he weighed next to nothing. "Angels?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded, "You didn't know that?"

"No!" She squeaked. "Angels!"

But she was noticing things. Noticing the way Dean had carried the body, the way they couldn't see the massive black wings, the way Dean's hands lingered as he washed the worst of the blood off the Angels face. His clothes were seeped with blood and... blackness she didn't want to name. The damage was under his clothes, Viva knew – Dean knew – but he was keeping to the 'safe areas' of his face and hands. "Will he kill me?"

"Cas?" Sam seemed taken aback by her question. "No! Why?"

"Angels." She managed. "Smite things... don't they?"

"I don't think he's going to be smiting anything soon." Sam said, voice low so that it wouldn't travel over to Dean, who looked like his soul was being ripped apart. Interesting.

Viva could see from the darkening stains on the once tan jacket that the Angel was wearing that there were wounds that Dean was making no attempt to touch. His soul was thrumming with hurt and pain, like loud, garish colours to her eyes, and Sam was paralysed with indecision. He wanted to help, but he didn't want to interfere with whatever his brother was going through.

She made a decision. "Right. Okay, get me a first aid kit and scissors. I need a basin of hot water and a cloth. And some new clothes for him."

Sam nodded as she kicked off her heels, making her appear shorter, less powerful – something she hated. "Dean," she said, walking around the couch and trying not to let her uneasiness seep into her voice. "I need to you to help me with this, okay?"

By the time Sam had come back through, Viva and Dean had managed to get the coat off, and she used the scissors to cut off his trousers and shirt rather than move him more. There were deep gouges into his body, slashes and wounds in skin that was so pale it was almost translucent. His skin was tight over his bones, thin blue veins showing as Viva carefully cleaned his body.

Dean used one of the cloths to clean the Angels arms and upper torso, while Viva cleaned everything else. Dean eyes refused to skim further than his ribs as the Angel lay unmoving and nude under their hands.

Sam was hovering behind them as they worked, until the Angels skin was washed clean of blood and black – sticky like tar and familiar to her. His wings were there and yet not there. She could see them, but her hands passed through them with nothing more than a slight tingle, and she knew that Dean and Sam couldn't see them at all, because Dean was kneeling on one.

She turned to pick up the first aid kit that Sam had brought through, expecting to see bandages and gauze and finding almost everything that she'd need for full surgery. "We need to sew up these wounds." She found herself saying, fingers wet and dyed red from the blood.

"No." Dean said, stopping her hand. "You can heal him."

Viva looked at the man kneeling by her side and shook her head. "No. I don't have the power."

"You can do it." He repeated. "I read up on what you can do." His eyes were hard and Viva could see the flatness of his meaning. If she didn't do this, he would make her – he'd been doing research.

"I don't have the power." She replied, fingers on his wrist, "I can't, I'm sorry. I'd need to feed, and we don't have the time now. If we set him up now we can stop it getting worse and I can do what I can later. When I've got more power."

* * *

Dean carried the limp body of the Angel into the room that was his, using the one solitary pillow to prop up his head. Viva had pulled a pair of boxers on him so that Dean wouldn't need to touch more of the Angel than he was comfortable. He'd shut the door to the room and was now sitting on a chair, watching the Angel sleep. Viva wondered what roll he was playing.

The room was his, but only half of it was decorated with his belongings. The bed was his, but it was larger than a single and only had one pillow. It was like he had left spaces for someone to fill. Fill the space on the walls, fill the space in the closet, fill the other side of the bed.

And now there was an Angel there.

Huh.

"Okay, Mr Tall, ripped and dimpled, we're doing this." She said, padding over to where her heels were, stocking feet making no sound as she walked towards the bedroom.

"Do what?"

"You want me to heal your Angel friend?"

"Yes."

"Then sex." Viva smiled, holding open the door and giving him a very pointed look. "And don't even think of saying no, because I've waited for days and I'm starving – and your friend is dying."

* * *

It was morning when Viva left Sam sleeping in the bed, unable to move, sprawled out and heart-rate so low she'd had to do a quick check to make sure he wasn't going to have a stroke. She'd taken as much as she could without actually damaging his body, which was... quite a lot, it turned out. She could get used to that.

She tapped lightly on Dean's door, and it opened almost immediately. "I've got what I need." She told the hunter. "But there will be downsides."

"I don't care."

"You might. You'll need to hire a girl when he wakes up." She tried to explain. "I'm going to pump your Angel full of succubus power – and he'll have needs when he wakes. Need's that will burn like fire in his blood. He'll fuck anything with legs. Hire a girl. Hell, hire two." She said, walking over to the still unmoving body on the bed. "I don't know what it'll do with him being an Angel."

She placed her hands on his chest, one over his heart, the other over his lung, and looked up at Dean who was watching her with unsure eyes. "I'm serious. He'll require feeding like a succubus for a while, till his body purges the power and he goes back to healing on his own."

"I understand." Dean nodded. "Just do it."

Viva closed her eyes and let the power she'd taken from Sam flow through her body, down her arms and through her hands, pumping into the sleeping Angel.

* * *

A week later and Sam had come to terms with their relationship. Viva didn't want to leave, Sam was supplying her with as much power as she could use, and Dean was... well... he still hadn't managed to hire that girl for his friend.

More than friends, it seemed, because as soon as Cas had opened his eyes, he'd made a line directly for the hunter and Viva might as well have been invisible. They'd been locked in the room and Viva's second sight was strong enough to see that the succubus power that had been burning through the Angel had worn off days ago. And so far Dean hadn't managed to leave the room. His little issue had all but vanished in the laser blue gaze of the Angel, and Viva wondered if perhaps it wasn't so much an issue with him as an issue with **_her_**. Sam, horrified that his brother was having sex with an Angel (although not at all as surprised as Viva had expected, so there must have been some build up to this she hadn't known about) had taken to leaving food outside the door.

Viva and Sam were actually dating, which was nice. She wore her dresses and her heels and he wore jeans and flannel and took her into town, which was small and people gave her clothes strange looks, but fuck them, she was the Head Bitch in Charge and she didn't care what they thought.

"Why can't you just put on something a little more... relaxed?" He'd asked her one day, as she walked beside him and the large cart he pushed through the store, filling it with food. "It's not like you need to... you know... impress me."

"I don't dress like this for men." Viva shrugged. "I dress this way for **_me_**. Power has many forms. This is power. You see that woman over there? She knows how much my shoes cost. She sees my purse and she knows that I'm better, that I have money, **_power_**."

"But you don't ne-"

"Sam, I spent a long time as a monster with nothing. **_Nothing_**." She looked at her nails, painted navy to match her Gucci dress. "Never again."

"How much longer do you think that Cas is going to be... you know?" He made a vague gesture in the air with one hand that Viva found innocent and adorable.

"For as long as it takes, I think." She hedged. "I won't leave until it's over." She said, and smiled when Sam slipped a large hand around her waist. It was true, after all that sex increases the chemical in your head that links with love – or feelings close enough to pass for it.

She didn't love him.

She could leave whenever she wanted.

* * *

She bought Dean the biggest flat screen she could find, and Sam installed her a pole in the room they used as a gym, and every morning at 8am, she went for a jog with Cas, who liked being complimented about his wings and smelt like flavoured lube no matter what time of the day.

And she could leave whenever she wanted.

* * *

She lay in the bed she'd been laying on for years and let the tears fall from her eyes as she watched through the door for the hunter she'd never left wince at a pain in his hip. His hair was short now, grey. He was no longer able to satisfy her hunger.

She could leave whenever she wanted.

* * *

Viva was starving to death.

She could leave whenever she wanted.

* * *

He died on a Tuesday.

She packed up her clothes, said goodbye to Dean whose hands trembled uncontrollably and couldn't remember her name – kissed Cas on the cheek that was still as smooth and perfect as her own, and drove away.

* * *

Dean died a month and a half later, and she wore red to his hunter's funeral and kissed Cas on the cheek that was tracked with tears and locked up the batcave for the next generation of Men of Letters to arrive.

Cas waited until she was finished before he left, following Dean to heaven, the one place where Viva would never be able to follow.

* * *

She was killed generations later by a hunter who didn't care that she never hurt anyone, he didn't understand why she had so many flannel shirts in her closet, or why her bed only had one pillow and why her room was only filled with her things on the left side.

* * *

When she opened her eyes on the other side, he was in the shower, and through the wall's she could hear Dean singing _Don't Fear The Reaper_ in the kitchen and Cas was standing in the doorway and he still smelt like cherry lube.

"We've been waiting for you." He said.

Viva could leave anytime she wanted.

She just didn't want to.


End file.
